The Unfinished Epilogue
by Les Amies de l'ABC
Summary: Marius and Cosette elope to England, where they expect a happy ending. But married life does not fit their expectations, and their 'ever after' seems to be ending rather abruptly.
1. Escaping to England

**This is the second collaboration between Citizeness Feuilly and Miss Pontmercy- formerly Wendla Bergmann. We have a lot of these being tossed around, and this one is more of a whirlwind romance. Enjoy!**

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><p>Marius would always remember that afternoon - when, in a haze of dejected misery over the fact that Cosette was "leaving him" for England with her father, a knock had suddenly sounded on the apartment door. Going to answer it, but not really caring who it was, Marius had been shocked to see Cosette standing there, breathless, pink-cheeked - and grasping two pieces of paper tightly in her right hand. She had thrust the papers at him and, before he had a chance to even read them, had started talking in the round-about, rapid way peculiar to Cosette.<p>

"Look, Marius, we have some good luck. I found these, they were in my father's room, in his dressing table, next to "The Inseparable". But you wouldn't know what that is, would you. Anyways, I found these tickets - they are for tomorrow afternoon," she told Marius. "We can run away together, just the two of us, and be happy."

Marius' first instinct was to refuse, to demure on the basis that they were sure to be brought back in disgrace. But then, he had caught sight of Cosette's eyes, shining with trust and love - and he knew that he could no more refuse this opportunity than cut off his own right arm. He had agreed - but with one condition. They must be married.

There, they ran into a roadblock. To be married in France, they would need the signatures of both of their legal guardians, as they were both underage. And they simply could not obtain those signatures. Marius had nearly despaired of it all then - until Cosette, in her innocent, child-like way, had asked if they could simply marry in England, where no-one would have to know.

Marius had, after hardly a moment's thought, agreed.

After that, Cosette had gone home, before her father had even noticed her absence (he was out getting supplies for what he assumed to be their journey to England) and had gone to sleep. At four o'clock in the morning, Cosette got out of bed, pulled a suitcase from under her bed, and hurriedly packed. By five o'clock, Marius was outside the apartment waiting for her to go to the carriage to the port.

He'd told Courfeyrac he had an emergency, and asked for fifty francs for a passport and to pay their share of the carriage.

"I've scarcely asked anything from you," Marius pleaded. "I'll earn them back and send them to you as soon as I can."

Courfeyrac had lent him the money, told him not to bother giving it back- he would not need it. Marius embraced his friend goodbye, and he and Cosette were off to England.

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><p><em>My Dear Father,<em>

_Rest assured that I am safe. I am sorry; I could not go with you to England. I saw a way out, and I had to take it. I have married a man I love, a man who loves me too and who I will be safe with._  
><em>I know you must hate me for stealing the tickets; I've never done anything like that before. I've hurt you in more ways than one and I hope that you can one day forgive me.<em>  
><em>This is not goodbye forever. I love you and I always will, and I will be back someday. But for now, I needed to follow my heart. I am safe and loved and cared for. You need not worry about me.<em>

_I am sorry I hurt you._

_Your daughter,_  
><em>Cosette<em>

Valjean was speechless as he read the note.

Cosette could not have written it! It was in her hand, yes, but someone must have forced her. She would never run from him.

But her favorite clothes were gone. She had so few other belongings that it was almost hard to notice she was gone when one looked at the house, but gone she was.

She was in love. Valjean felt this, deep in his heart. He could try to deny it, but thinking back on the past few months, he knew it was true. She was different. She'd cried when he said they were leaving for England, and had excused herself to her room as soon as they came to this apartment. That was the last time he had seen her. He'd retired, resting easy, and woken up to an apartment without Cosette in it.

Had he frightened her into thinking he had no concept of her happiness? He must have! If she had come to him and said that no, she could absolutely not go to England and leave this boy, he would have made arrangements, wouldn't he?

Why did she not trust him?

Valjean was in her bedroom now, looking for something-anything!- that might tell him where she was going. There were no journals, no letters from this boy, no addresses. But the tickets were missing- they were on their way to England.

If he got in a carriage ride fast enough, he could get to port, couldn't he?

No, he knew he couldn't. It was eight o'clock in the morning, and the boat left at three. He would never make it in time. He would never get a horse in time.

Valjean sat on the floor of Cosette's room, her abandoned belongings strewn about due to his search, buried his face in her pillow, and began to sob.

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><p>A wide smile spread itself across Cosette's face, as she surveyed the seemingly endless expanse of sea stretching out before her. The sea air whipped around her, causing wisps of her hair to come out of its tight bun. She had never felt so alive; she'd taken her future into her own hands, and was about the embark on the adventure of her life.<p>

And, there was the fact that Marius was with her, his arm protectively curved around her waist. Cosette couldn't see how it wasn't possible to be riotously happy when she was with Marius.

"Are you happy?" Marius asked, resting his cheek across the top of her head.

"I'm with you," she said, by way of explanation, snuggling closer into Marius' welcoming arms. They were quiet for a few minutes, simply enjoying each other's presence, before Marius spoke again.

"You know, I never thought I'd leave France," he said, looking out at the expanse of gray, steely sea. "But I've never been happier to see it go. Cosette, this is our chance. We can make a life together, where no one will ever keep up apart."

"And where we can be free to love each other," she said, pulling away from his grasp and turning to face him directly.

"If you like, as soon as we get settled, we can go to the country, where I can work and we can have a little cottage, just for us. There won't be people for miles- it will just be us, in our own world."

Cosette smiled, and settled herself back into his arms. A whole world for she and Marius- the prospect made her head whirl with possibility.

"That sounds perfect. It will be _perfect."_

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><p><strong>As this is our very first chapter, we will be very pleased for feedback. Chapter 2 is coming soon!<strong>


	2. Married Life

As it turned out, Marius and Cosette's new life in England was hardly as magical as they had expected.

They arrived in Plymoth, tired, dirty and disoriented. Cosette, who had developed a bad cough on the journey over, was hacking rather badly, her condition aggravated by the nasty, smoky air at the docks. Marius was chiefly concerned with getting her out of the gray drizzle, and into a warm bed. But they didn't have any English money with which to pay for a guest house, and Cosette staunchly maintained that she was perfectly alright.

And so, Marius at last agreed to let her come with him as he searched for a job. First of all, they went to the Admiralty, hoping that Marius' language skills might allow him to be of interest to the Navy. A prim-nosed maid showed them into a hall, ordering them, in tight, clipped tones that Marius had to strain to understand, to sit down. As the maid retreated, Cosette turned to Marius, her eyes wide with confusion.

"Marius - what was that lady saying? I couldn't understand her at all."

Smiling wearily, Marius replied, "She told us that someone would be with us in a few minutes, and to sit down."

Cosette wasted no time in perching herself on a bench, and looking around at the many portraits hanging on the wall. She was particularly taken by a portrait of a good-looking, one-armed man in military dress. Turning to Marius beside her, she asked, "Who is that gentleman there?"

Marius took a few minutes to respond. As she noted his white face and tight lips, Cosette wondered if she had asked something wrong. At last, Marius, his voice slightly more curt than normal, replied.

"That's Lord Admiral Horatio Nelson. He fought Napoleon at Trafalgar."

Cosette wasn't altogether sure what Marius was talking about, but the scowl on his face as he glared at the portrait made her think that Lord Admiral Horatio Nelson, whoever he was, must be a very wicked man indeed.

She fell silent, blushing slightly. Marius suddenly got to his feet, and she followed suit, uncertain of why they were doing so. The reason suddenly came into her field of view, as a handsome young man in naval uniform became striding purposefully into the room.

"Lieutenant Edward Kennedy, at your service." He bowed slightly to Marius and then again, more deeply, to Cosette.

Marius inclined his head in reply, evidently not too enamoured of the younger, more confident man, with his form-fitting, pressed uniform and perfectly arranged hair.

Cosette, on the other hand, saw no reason to dislike the man, and curtsied back. Her and Kennedy's eyes met for a moment, until Marius coughed delicately. Kennedy pulled his gaze away from Cosette, and refocused on Marius, who was now speaking in stilted, accented English.

"Sir, I have come to inquire - "

Kennedy smoothly interrupted him. He evidently had surmised Marius' discomfort in speaking English, and so spoke in perfectly decent French. Cosette, delighted to hear her language spoken by someone other than Marius, listened with interest.

"Monsieur, I have been apprised of the reason for your visit, and I have been asked by my superiors to inform you that we currently have no place for you. Alas, your French citizenship makes you an unlikely candidate for a future post, either. They encourage you to attempt to find employment in another field - education, perhaps."

Marius looked slightly panicked.

"Please, Monsieur, I am willing to work at anything. Do you have any ideas as to where I might turn? My wife is ill, and I need to provide for her."

Kennedy, looking thoughtful, turned to Cosette.

"My dear lady...no-one can feel more sympathy for your situation than I. I assure you of my deepest good faith."

Cosette nodded - his smooth, assured way of speaking left her feelign slightly breathless and flustered. He continued.

"I believe I may know of a possible post for Monsieur."

Cosette smiled, her eyes full of hope.

"Oh, Lieutenant Kennedy, if you gave my Marius a way to find a job, I could never thank you enough!"

"I assure you, Mademoiselle, the pleasure would be all mine."

He bowed again, kissing her hand. Marius, who had watched this interchange with barely supressed fury, at last interceded.

"Please, do my wife the courtesy of calling her "Madame"."

Kennedy laughed, showing off sharp, white teeth.

"I assure you, monsieur, I accord this lovely lady al the respect and courtesy in the world. "Mademoiselle" is her correct title. She's no more your wife than she is mine."

Marius started to protest, but Kennedy interrupted.

"The lack of a wedding ring is really most revealing, Monsieur. But do not worry: your secret is safe with me. I swear on my honour as an officer of His Majesty's Navy, that I will not breathe a word to your new employers."

Marius seemed incapable of responding, so Cosette did instead.

"Please, Leiutenant Kennedy, Marius' "new employers"?"

"Ah, yes, of course, I was getting ahead of myself. I have a cousin who is a wealthy shipping merchant - a Mr. Warwick. He and his wife is looking for a French tutor for his two sons, Albert, age 8, and George, age 6. I believe the post pays ₤75 a year...Monsieur, here, is exactly what my cousin is looking for in a tutor."

Cosette was delight, Taking Marius' arm, she was hurt slightly as he gripped her rather tighter than strictly necessary. But she hardly even cared.

"Oh, Lieutenant Kennedy, that would be absolutely perfect. The post is here in Plymouth, then?"

Kennedy answered in the affirmative. "I'll give you the address, and a letter of recommendation, if you like. I'm sure my cousin will be more than pleased to employ you on the spot, not to mention assist you in finding appropriate lodgings - if, of course, that would be acceptable to Monsieur?"

He turned questioningly to Marius, who's jaw was drawn tightly.

"More than acceptable, I should think."

Kennedy looked amused, for some unfathomable reason. "Oh, excellent, then. If you could just wait a few more moments - I'll go and write that letter."

With another low bow to Cosette, and a shallow nod to Marius, Kennedy disappeared. As soon as he was fairly out the door, Cosette turned excitedly to Marius.

"Oh, love, can you believe it? ₤75 a year - only, I do not know how pounds compare to francs, but we can live off of that, surely?"

Marius, still looking disgruntled, relaxed his brow slightly, and smiled. Whatever he thought of Lieutenant Edward Kennedy and his stupid perfect uniforms - whether the gentleman had made the offer more out of concern for Cosette than out of human decency - the man had, undoubtedly, done them a kindness.

"I still haven't gotten the job yet, love, don't be getting ahead of yourself. But if it is true...I - I can hardly believe our good luck. ₤75 is enough for us to live off of - only, we won't be able to move to the country like we wanted. We'll have to live here in Plymouth."

Cosette, her eyes bright, laughed.

"I hardly mind that. We can still get a nice apartment, and you can go to work in the mornings, and I can go to the bakery and the markets every day, and we'll still be perfectly happy, won't we?"

There, her excited chatter came to a sudden end, as she started to cough violently. Marius made a move to go to her, to hold her hand - but before he could do so, Kennedy came striding back into the room, bearing a sealed letter. At the sight of him, Cosette made an effort to control her coughing, as he handed her the letter.

"There, my dear. You and your - eh - gentleman friend, take this to Number 9, Saint-John's Way. I promise you, you won't be denied assistance. My cousin and his wife - they're very good, generous people. You'll be alright."

Cosette grasped his hand in thanks.

"Lieutenant - if there's ever anything Marius or I can do for you in return -"

"Please, now, Mademoiselle - the only thanks or restitution I need is the sight of your bonny face. Which I hope to see again - perhaps, once you are settled, I could come and visit you?"

Cosette smiled uncertainly, and half-turned to Marius, waiting for his opinion. He was, in turn, boiling with hardly surpressed jealousy and rage. That that ignorant English buffoon would waltz in, flirt with his Cosette, and then attempt to take her from him - it was unthinkable. He reached out, took the letter from Cosette's hand, and stowed it in his jacket pocket.

"Yes, well, Monsieur, I expect we will be rather busy for some time to come."

With that, he nodded to Kennedy, who was struggling to control a grin, and beckoned to Cosette, before stalking angrily out of the room.

Cosette did not immediately turn to go with him. She was angry at him, yes, and hurt at his own anger at her having made a friend. Did he trust her so little? Was he going to be even more over-protective than her father? That is - had Cosette traded one prison for another?

At that rebellious thought, Cosette shook her head a little, ashamed. Marius adored her, and she him - she would not have come this far with him unless she was sure of that fact. And her father, protective though he was, loved her more than life itself. But - no. She could not allow herself to think of that. So, instead, Cosette deliberately turned to Kennedy, her face animated by an enchanting smile.

"Monsieur - after what you have done for my Marius - you are more than welcome to call on us whenever you like. I would be honoured to receive you."

Kennedy grinned boyishly, making Cosette blush.

"If you would like me to, Mademoiselle - hell itself could not stop me from coming."

He paused for a moment.

"Now, as soon as you find yourself a flat or a room - send me a note here, at the Admiralty, with your address. I will come to you, as soon as humanly possible. Would that be acceptable?"

Cosette nodded, not trusting her voice. Kennedy smiled again, more gently, and Cosette was again struck at how nice his teeth were.

At just that moment, Marius, looking seriously annoyed, poked his head back into the room.

"Please, Cosette?"

Cosette flushed and, with a final look back at Kennedy, she followed Marius back into the street. As soon as they were out of sight of the Admiralty, Marius pulled her aside.

"Now, Cosette. You can't behave to people like you did back there. These English, they aren't like the French. They have no class, no propriety. You must be careful, no?"

Cosette's first instinct was defiance - who was Marius to tell her how to behave? But the sight of his face, looking so annoyed and frustrated, rapidly quelled any rebellion within her, and tears sprung to her eyes. She and Marius weren't even married yet - and he had already found fault with her.

"I'm sorry, love. But...I didn't do anything that I regret, or that I wouldn't do again."

At the heart-breaking sight of Cosette trying to check her tears, Marius relented, with a sigh.

"No, Cosette, it is I who should be sorry. I was a perfect pig back there. I'm sorry. But, oh, please, don't cry. I can bear anything but that."

Cosette wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.

Marius' voice was lower and throatier when he next spoke. "Now, my darling - how about we go and see these Warwicks? And then, once it's done...why don't we get married?"

Cosette's head jerked up, and she looked at him in bewilderment.

"Why not, Cosette? There's nothing to delay for, and I don't know about you, but I can't wait another day to make you a Pontmercy."

Cosette's shocked look remained for a few seconds longer, and Marius privately wondered if she was starting to have doubts. But then, she began to smile.

"That would be absolutely...lovely, my dear. But don't we need to make arrangements in advance?"

"No, I expect we can simply ask a reverend to do it. We won't be married in the Catholic Church, I suppose - but I don't care much about that. You don't, do you, darling? All I care about is being able to call you mine."

On impulse, he reached in, and gave Cosette a kiss, not so chaste or short as their ones in Rue Plumet. By the time they broke apart, Cosette was blushing, and breathing rapidly.

Marius suddenly became conscious that they were attracting a large number of pedestrians, all of whom were staring at them, particularly Cosette, in vulgarly unabashed interest.

"Come, love - let's go and talk to the Warwicks, and then we'll..."

Marius did not finish his sentence, as Cosette silenced him with another kiss. When it was over, taking her by the arm, and feeling perfectly at peace with the world, Marius set off down the street in search of his new employers.

As it turned out, Lieutenant Kennedy was correct - Mr. and Mrs. Warwick were more than happy to employ Marius as their tutor. Mr. Warwick said that Marius was young enough to be a friend to their sons, and yet old enough to command respect - that was all he cared about. Mrs. Warwick was more intellectually inclined, and found herself impressed with Marius' language skills. Within half an hour of their arrival at Number 19, Saint-John's Way, Marius' services as a tutor were engaged for a full year, with opportunity for a renewal of contract beyond that. And so, Marius and Cosette were soon on their way, their hearts light, and their pockets weighted down with the advance on Marius' first week of salary.

They decided, to celebrate their good luck, to stop off for lunch at a pub. Marius had explained to Cosette that a pub was the closest English equivalent to a cafe - and so, Cosette mentally prepared herself for a small room, full of students smoking and drinking. The reality of the pub couldn't be more different from her mental image - a large, dingy room, full of sullen dock workers sitting at the bar, and consuming seemingly vast quantities of ale and beer.

Normally, Cosette would have felt deeply unsafe in such an environment - but with Marius' hand on hers, she could not have felt more at peace. Although the meal was sparse, and the food unpleasant, Cosette hardly even cared. She and Marius were to be married at long last - that is all that mattered to her.

At last, the meal ended, and they set out again, in search of the church this time. They found one relatively quickly and, after Marius talked with the reverend for a few minutes, were there married in the eyes of the Protestant church. Cosette didn't understand a word of the ceremony as spoken by the reverend, but Marius translated bits and pieces for her. It didn't take long - less than an hour - and, when it was over, Marius and Cosette kissed again, thanked the reverend profusely, and then left, in search of lodgings.

After that first night in a guest house, Marius and Cosette moved into a grungy little apartment, barely large enough for the two of them. But, it was the only place they could afford that was close enough to the Warwicks' - and they did not mind, at first. But soon, life started to settle into a normal pattern - and, before much longer, the seeds of discontentment began to be planted in Cosette's head.

Marius left each morning by eight o'clock, and was rarely ever home before seven o'clock in the evening. This left Cosette alone all day, every day. And when Marius was at home, on Sundays and after work, he was always so exhausted that he paid her very little attention. Cosette tried hard not to complain - only, it was very difficult. She did not even have the comfort of being able to converse and interact with her neighbours - her English, although improving, still left a lot to be desired.

It was in a moment of deep loneliness and depression, then, that she, one day some weeks after her marriage, wrote a note to Lieutenant Kennedy. She asked for him to come and visit, whenever convenient for him - and was surprised when he showed up on their doorstep at noon the very next day. Marius was away, of course, but Cosette invited him in nonetheless and, to her surprise, found herself enjoying Kennedy's company even more than she thought she would. Not only was she simply relieved to have someone to talk to in her native language, but Kennedy was amusing and witty, and only too happy to have someone as pretty and charming as Cosette as an attentive audience.

At the end of the visit, Cosette asked Kennedy back a second time - and he did. And a third time, and a fourth, and a fifth, and a sixth, until he no longer needed to be invited back at the end of each visit. It was a standing invitation and, before long, he was coming over to their little flat to see Cosette, alone, two or three times a week.

Marius emphatically disapproved of Cosette's budding friendship with the young Lieutenant, and had, on occasion, voiced his displeasure on the matter. Cosette refused to acquiesce - Kennedy was her friend, she claimed, and there was no reason for Marius to be angry about it. Marius planned to, one day, lay down the law where Edward Kennedy was concerned - but, until he summoned the mental strength for that, he decided to let it pass.

That is, until one day some months later. Mr. Warwick had barged in on the middle of the French lesson, and had, with an imperious jerk of the head, ordered Marius to join him in the study.

Marius, worrying for his employment, followed immediately. He was prepared for any number of things - except for the one that actually occurred. Warwick informed him, in no uncertain terms, of the rumours swirling around Portsmouth regarding Marius' wife's relationship with Lieutenant Kennedy. Warwick would have no scandal tainting his family - Marius must get the situation under control.

Flabbergasted and humiliated, Marius nodded, promised that he would, and left immediately, abandoning the rest of the French lesson. He arrived back at the apartment and, just as he was about to open the door, paused at the sound of a shriek of laughter.

It was Cosette's, of course - he had never heard her sound so merry and carefree, the entire time they had been together. The sound that made him really pause, though, was a lower rumble of laughter joining her higher refrain - definitely a man's.

With that realization, Marius could not contain himself any longer. Bursting into the apartment, he saw Cosette, sitting in front of the fire, holding a ball of yarn, chatting amiably, while Kennedy kneeled in front of her, untangling the yarn, and listening to Cosette's prattle patiently. The image was so peculiarly intimate and domestic, that Marius stood there for a moment, his mouth open. Neither occupant of the room noticed him, and instead continued their conversation, entirely oblivious to his presence.

At last, the pain of the scene overcame him, and he coughed loudly. Cosette looked up, her eyes wide, and immediately started stammering something out.

"M-Marius. Why didn't you tell me you'd be home early?"

"Doesn't a man have a right to come home in the middle of the day?"

"O-of course you do, love. But if I'd have known, I wouldn't have..."

"You wouldn't have what, my dear?" Marius' voice was deadly quiet and calm.

Lieutenant Kennedy, carefully depositing the yarn back on the floor, rose to his feet, appearing the very image of calmness and rationality.

"I think Madame means that she would not have invited me over for the English lesson had she known you would be home."

Marius let out a bitter laugh.

"Oh, yes, so that's what you're calling it? I'm away, slaving to provide for you, Cosette, and this is how you repay me? By betraying me?"

"I haven't betrayed you! You're over-reacting!"

"Over-reacting? I'm hardly over-reacting!"

Kennedy, with a final apologetic look at Cosette, took this opportunity to slip out of the room.

"Yes, Marius, you are over-reacting. Edward and I are friends - he's honestly just been helping me with my English."

Marius let out an exasperated sigh.

"Cosette, that's not what everyone is saying. The word going around town is - is..."

Marius hesitated before saying the actual words. Cosette's eyes flashed in anger.

"Is what, Marius? Since when did you care about petty gossip?"

"I don't! But, still, there must be a basis for that gossip!"

Cosette's eyes filled with tears of rage.

"Do you trust me so little, Marius? I love you, Kennedy is my friend. That is all there is."

Marius was silent; Cosette started to cry in earnest.

"Please, Marius. You've shut me out for months now - we've hardly even talked. Don't do this to me now."

"Do you have any idea how hard I work, Cosette? If you gave it a try, perhaps then you'd understand why I'm not all laughter and giggles every night when I come home."

Cosette's eyes widened, as if he had physically slapped her. Without another word, she turned on her heel, and disappeared into the bedroom, slamming the door hard behind her.

Throwing herself onto the lumpy bed, Cosette lay there, sobbing, for quite some time. After a few minutes, she heard the front door open and close - Marius must have left. The thought of him abandoning her so made her cry all the harder.

Not for the first time, the thought of her father came to her. His dear, familiar face swam before her eyes and she felt such a wave of overpowering homesickness that she could hardly breathe. What wouldn't she give, to be back home in Paris, a carefree girl again? To wake up in the morning in her four-poster bed in Rue Plumet, to eat drink chocolate with her father, to go walking in the Luxembourg? To practice her piano and sketch a little and sing and dance and garden?

Cosette suddenly heard the front door open again, followed by hesitant footsteps towards the bedroom door. She supposed it must be Marius, come to apologize - and burrowed her face under one of the pillows. She wasn't sure that she could bear the sight of him right now.

The bedroom door opened, and Cosette felt a familiar hand on her shaking shoulders, trying to calm her. She tried to shrug it off, saying,

"No, Marius, go away. I don't want to see you right now!"

The hand didn't move away. At last, Cosette raised her head to inform Marius face-to-face that she couldn't bear his touch.

When she saw who it was, no words came out of her mouth. Cosette's hand flew to her mouth in shock, as she surveyed her visitor. Ultime Fauchelevent, perhaps better known to the reader as Jean Valjean, his eyes full of infinite sorrow, love and hope, stood before her.


	3. France and England

Marius lay, unsleeping, underneath the blankets on the bed in the apartment. Earlier that day, Marius had stormed out of the apartment, angry and hurt and blaming Cosette for every unpleasant feeling he felt. It was true; moving to England hardly offered the safe harbor for their love. He'd thought they would spend days taking walks together, sitting by a fire, being in love. That was a silly fantasy. It seemed there was a lot more time spent working than being with her.

But he realized he had wronged her. After an hour or so of his walk, he realized what she must be feeling. Cosette did love him; she would not have left her father without loving him at least a little bit. So he had driven her to her relationship with Kennedy. She was right; they had not spoken properly in weeks. He was not paying her enough attention. Cosette, French-speaking and all but isolated in the English world, did not deserve to be left alone all day. He did not have a choice in that matter, though. Still, Marius vowed on his way back home to pay her the proper amount of attention when he came home from work. No matter how tired he was, he would make a point to make sure she knew how much he loved her.

For he did. He loved her so, so much. The reason the gossip about Kennedy bothered him was not the gossip, but the deep, penetrating fear that it had been true. Marius hated knowing that man was in his home, with his wife, stepping about on _his_ territory. How could Cosette not see that?

But Marius pushed that blameful thought out of his head. He turned the key in the lock of the apartment, planning on taking Cosette in his arms and kissing her hair and asking her to forgive him and promising to love her more properly- but his plans were cut short.

The apartment was quiet when he came inside. The door to the bedroom was open, and from the front door, Marius could not see Cosette on the bed or anywhere else in the room.

"Cosette? _Cherie?"_ he called through the apartment. The main room, a kitchen, dining area, and living area all in one, was empty. The bedroom was empty. The closet was open, and Cosette's suitcase gone, along with her dresses.

"No..." he said to himself, disbelieving. He fumbled through the clothes, hoping to see something she'd left, something precious of hers, so she would come back... but she'd left nothing.

Swiftly moving back into the kitchen, Marius looked about- even her embroidery was gone.

"Cosette," he whispered, pain searing through his heart. "Oh, God, what have I done?"

He turned about, looking through the empty apartment, and then sat down on the floor, defeated, his head in his hands.

Cosette was gone.

After a few minutes of this, Marius rose up. Anger and maliciousness only come from pain, and that was what he was feeling. His blameful thoughts came back- how _dare_ she just up and leave? Where would she go? To Kennedy?

That thought made his fists clench. He would kill that man if he put his hands on her...

Marius blanched. Maybe he already _had._ Maybe, the English lessons were even more out of line than he'd feared... He wanted to be sick. Kennedy and Cosette... the thought of them together that way...!

How dare she? How could she leave him?

Still, a bud of fear cut through this all- where would she live? If she didn't go to Kennedy, where was she? She could be hurt, or raped, or robbed...

But she might come back.

If she did go to Kennedy, well, he'd damn well better treat her right.

_Unlike me,_ Marius thought, regret poisoning his mind.

Finally, his eyes landed on the kitchen table. A piece of paper lay there. Hope bubbled inside him- there had to be an explanation! She was going to come back! He picked itu p off the table and began to read:

The cold note said this:

_Marius,_

_It's become clear that this was a mistake. Our marriage was wrong; perhaps we never were meant to be together after all. I think it's best we go our seperate ways. My father has found us, and he is taking me home. You needn't worry about me._

_I wish you only the best, Monsieur Pontmercy._

_Cosette_

How could this be? Anger seethed through his veins- how could she up and leave him? They'd been married only three months. She was so immature, so childish! Three months, she couldn't stand something! She got tired of it, so she left. How selfish! And her father, no doubt, had urged her to go back home, and she'd eagerly obeyed.

Did she forget the fact that, since she was married, she did not need to obey her father, and was supposed to honor her _husband_? No, she did not forget. She _chose_ to dishonor her husband and go back to being a child.

Marius turned over in bed, tired of reliving this all, his teeth clenched.

Cosette had slept here the night before. How could she have been happy enough to sleep beside him one night, and then leave the next? He thought back to the game they played a few nights ago- he and Cosette had laid awake on a Saturday evening, not caring at all about staying up very late, for he had the day off the next day. He was lying on his stomach, and she was tracing words with her warm fingers against the skin of his back, making him try to guess what she was writing. He remembered feeling her skin against his, her soft skin laying on his when she'd lean over to whisper something to him...

But that had not been a few nights ago at all, had it? Once he thought of it, Marius realized that had been the first week they'd married, the first Saturday night they'd spent in England. For the past two to three weeks, Cosette had slept stiffly, her arms crossed around herself, curled up on the side of the bed away from him.

How had he urged her away so completely? He had loved her- he knew that within his heart, it was just about the only thing he knew. He had driven her away.

What was there for him now? Marius sat up to think. He would have to go on, no doubt. He would have to stay here; he had a job. Going back to Paris, back where he might see her, would only be worse. He could not return to her. It struck him as ironic that this whirlwind relationship with Cosette ended with him in England, and she back with her father in Paris. Hadn't he once promised her that they would go somewhere where no one and nothing could touch them or tear them apart?

But she did not love him. That much was clear. Once he was positive she loved him. The Marius who had ridden out on the boat to England, hopeful and in love and thinking the world rested on Cosette's shoulders, was gone. A cold, hardened one took his place. Cosette did not love him, or even care what became of him. So what did the rest matter?

* * *

><p>The rue plumet was not a welcome sight to Cosette. The flowers and the beauty of it should have been consoling to her, but instead they only made her sick to her stomach. The leaves were just beginning to put on their autumn coats. Cosette usually found that to be one of the most beautiful times of the year. This year she felt differently.<p>

"Goodnight, father," she said sadly, kissing him on the forehead and taking herself up to her room.

When her father had found her, she had so happy. She had not even realized how much she'd missed him, and then when he came for her, she was gloriously happy. She'd cried to him about how lonely she was, and she apologized for hurting him.

He asked her if she wanted to go home. In a flight of maliciousness, she'd said yes.

Valjean talked her out of her idea of marriage, talking her into being a child again. Cosette was all too eager to comply. She packed her things, wrote Marius that note, and left, excited to go back to her old life. Marius was wrong. He'd been even worse than her father. At least her father had spent time with her!

They fled back to France a few days later, and Marius had never tried to stop her. When they returned home, she signed the divorce papers her father procured, and then they sent them to Marius. Her father was upset she had not been married in the Catholic church, but Cosette did not mind. At least it was easier to end the marriage, since she had been married in a Protestant church.

But it only took a few days for her to have those creeping feelings of regret. She would go to sleep, and dream of running somewhere. Marius was behind her, unable to catch her, even though she wanted him to. She would wake up, tearful, and remember his smile and his laugh and his voice, and an ache would set in on her chest.

She remembered the day she married him, and how she did not know the words of the ceremony, but it did not matter, because she was with him.

The stupidness of what she'd done occurred to her. She loved him so powerfully, so incredibly much, and she'd thrown it all away at the first signs of discontent. She had not been fair to Marius.

Her father never worked- it never struck her that that was odd. He made it clear that they were not wealthy, and yet he never seemed to have to work. She held it against Marius that he _was_ working, spending his time making sure they both could survive. Some nights, he came home and tried to spend time with her. But she, angry, would go to bed in a huff instead.

Not that he was entirely correct, she knew he wasn't. They both had not given marriage a real chance. Every time she thoguht of him, so would grow sick to her stomach.

In fact, she was nearly always sick to her stomach these days. In the month since she'd returned from England, she was nearly always off-color and feeling unpleasant.

"You probably picked up a bug on the ship," her father said. "Those English really aren't very clean people."

Cosette had accepted this, until it became clear that she was not getting any better.

"Why don't we call a doctor?" her father asked, and she complied.

A few questions were all the doctor needed to know what was 'wrong' with her. Solemnly, as if it was the worst thing in the world, he informed them that Cosette was pregnant. He even had the gall to say that he knew someone who could 'take care' of the issue for her. He apologized to her father, not knowing that she had been married once upon a time.

Valjean was quick to see the man out.

Cosette, on the other hand, was not unhappy with this news, but not for a typical reason. She knew that, if she was to have Marius' child, well... he might come back.

He would come back, wouldn't he?

"Marius deserves to know," Cosette said, blushing. It was not a topic she was comfortable discussing with her father.

"I will take care of everything," Valjean said to Cosette. But he did not write to Marius; he had no intention to.

Marius had taken her once. Valjean would not give him a chance to come back and take her again. He knew it was selfish, but he refrained from writing him. It was all it took; Cosette thought Marius did not care that she was having his baby.

Decisively this time, Cosette felt her heart break.

Valjean saw this happen, and felt his own heart break. It was clear Cosette loved Marius, and was hurt by leaving him. But he could not bear to lose her...

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry, Monsieur," the doctor said to Valjean. For the past few weeks, Valjean had been having horrible stomach pains.<p>

Cosette sat with him, looking frightened. She had only just started to show, but now her pregnancy was far from her mind.

"There is only so much to be done," the doctor said, before informing Valjean and his daughter that he had a tumor in his stomach. He prescribed some foods to eat, but it was clear that Valjean did not have much time.

"Oh, father," Cosette sobbed. "I can't- what am I going to do without you?"

"You will be fine," he said. "You will be well-cared for."

"Not without you," she said tearfully.

* * *

><p>Valjean had only once issue: the money. Cosette was too young yet to possess it herself. She needed a guardian to maintain the trust. But who? They had no friends, no one to trust to keep her safe. He brought this up to her one day.<p>

"I have enough money for you," he informed her. "You needn't worry about getting by safely. You will want for nothing. But I do not know who to leave it with, when I am gone."

"Father," she protested, not wanting to talk about this.

"It needs to be thought of, dear," he said gently. "Who shall I leave the money with?"

She was quiet for a long time. Then she spoke, not looking at him. "Once, I would have said you should leave it with Marius Pontmercy... but it's clear he does not care at all about me, if he did not even write back when he found out I was going to have a baby... But he is a honest man, father, one of the most honest I know. He is true to his word and could be trusted with any amount of money. But he wants nothing to do with me, so I don't think we can use him."

Valjean's stomach twisted, but not from his illness. Hot guilt bubbled when he looked at his daughter, hurt from a broken heart, missing this Marius, led to believe he did not love her. Valjean did not know for sure how this Marius thought of her- indeed, he never wrote to them to try and convince Cosette to come back- but Valjean knew he had not been given a fair chance. He did not know about his child, he was never given the chance to prove himself.

Besides, Valjean saw how hurt Cosette was without him. If Valjean left Cosette's money in his care, he would have to come see her, or at least write to her. They would be in contact again, and maybe they would fall back in love. Cosette would be happy when he was gone.

It was hardly fair of him to keep her for himself when he was living; it would be entirely selfish to keep her lonely when he was dead.

"You need not worry," was all he said to her.


	4. Jeanne

On May twenty-fourth, Marie-Jeanne-Lucile Fauchelevent was born, a healthy and beautiful baby girl. Cosette was ecstatic, and instantly taken with being a mother. She recovered quickly physically from the birth - but her recovery was overshadowed by the painful knowledge that a far greater trial was yet to come.

One month to the day after Cosette was delivered, Jean Valjean died, with Cosette and the baby at his side. From that day onward, Cosette vowed that her daughter should only be referred to as "Jeanne", eschewing the more elegant name, Lucile, that she had taken such delight in choosing. She thought it only fitting that, having so neglected and abandoned her father in life, she could offer him this commemoration in death.

During the middle of July, Cosette was bustling about the rue plumet, cleaning up the house and getting lunch ready for herself, chattering away to Jeanne, who was laying awake on a blanket in the middle of the living room floor, kicking free from her swaddling.

"Shall we go out into the garden later, my lovely?" Cosette said to her as she wound the stray ends of her yarn back into their spools. "Maman's going to make herself something to eat and then we can go outside."

Cosette grinned at her baby. If she did not have her, there would be nothing that brought her joy after her father's death. She had no Marius, no father, and only pitying looks from passersby on the street, who took her as a single mother. People yelled things at her, insulted her, and yet she was able to keep her head high.

"What are you thinking?" she asked her daughter, who let out a tiny little laugh. Her blonde curls, inherited from her grandmother, made her look like an angel, her sparkly blue eyes even more so. "I would give anything to know what you think, my love."

Cosette went into the kitchen then and cut a baguette in half, spreading some cheese and sliced meat onto it. Then she poured herself a glass of water from the clean water they kept, that she'd boiled that morning.

A knock sounded at the door right when she was setting her lunch down on the table in the living room.

"Who could that be, ma petite?" Cosette said out loud. "I'll get it, shall I? You stay right where you are. I'll be back before you can miss me."

The door was not out of her daughter's sight, so the little baby did not cry when Cosette walked away.

Humming to herself, Cosette looked through the peephole. She nearly fainted, but, getting her wits about her, she opened the door.

"Good afternoon, Monsieur Pontmercy," she said, her voice stiff because of her confusion.

"Hello, Cosette," he said, taking her in. He knew he'd addressed her inappropriately, but the sight of her arrested him. She looked absolutely, heart-wrenchingly beautiful. Her skin was glowing, her hair lustrous. She was heavier than she'd been a year ago when he'd last seen her, but the weight looked good on her. Obviously not expecting him; she was dressed in a white peignoir, making her look like a goddess to him.

"Marius," was all she said, somewhat coldly. "What are you doing here?"

He got a hold on himself in enough time to realize she was probably completely shocked to see him. Her father had not told her, obviously. "I am very sorry for your loss," he said. "I am here to settle the claims with you. Your father left your money in my care."

"Oh," she said, surprised. She had not expected her father to do that, whatever she had suggested.

Marius was hopeful for what this opportunity might bring- he'd gotten the letter in the mail, and left for France straightaway, telling the Warwicks he had urgent business in France. His contract was up, and he did not renew it for the next year. Cosette's father had written to him- that meant something, hadn't it? He had not heard from her in more than ten months, and he thought best to respect the distance she obviously wanted.

But her father left all their money in his care. Meaning they trusted him, meaning she must have been talking about him. Perhaps most importantly, it meant there was not another man in her life to hold the money for her. Not least of all, Marius could now see her on a regular basis. He was fully intending to make the most of this opportunity and would try as hard as he could to make her fall in love with him again. God knew he had not stopped. His anger had dissipated, and now he only wanted her back.

"Come in, please," she said, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. "One minute, please."

She bustled about before he came in.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked.

"No, thank you," he called back.

Cosette could hardly breathe. Marius was here. He was as honorable as she thought- he had care of her money, and was doing his duty, just as she knew he would. He was a good man. He did not seem angry anymore.

But Cosette was not so easy to forgive. If he had only wronged her, she could have forgiven him. But he had shunned Jeanne, like she was nothing. He knew she was pregnant, and did not care. So she would show him the baby, and that would be his chance. If he shunned her again, he would not be welcome.

Marius walked into the house, shutting the door behind him. Cosette was stooping in the middle of the living room, picking something up. She turned, and he blanched.

"This is Jeanne Fauchelevent," she said stiffly. "My daughter."

Mine, she thought selfishly, She could have been ours. But you gave her up.

Marius could not breathe again, but this time it was not because of Cosette's beauty. He stared, shocked and uncomprehending and angry.

"Your..." he trailed off. The baby was adorable, but he did not notice. He saw the blonde ringlets, and instantly grew suspicious. "How old is she?"

"She was born May 24th," Cosette said.

Marius counted back in his head, and deduced that the child must have been conceived right in the middle of the relationship with Kennedy.

It had to be Kennedy's baby- if Jeanne was his, surely she would have written him and told him. Cosette would not have kept a baby from him, if it was his. So surely, she was not his baby. The blonde curls satisfied the rest of his suspicions- Cosette had slept with Kennedy, and now she had his child.

"I see," Marius said coldly, hurt once more. He wanted to start over, but what he found made him recoil. He wanted a life with her, but he found that Kennedy had already made more of an... impression on Cosette than he ever would. "Now, onto business."

Cosette flinched.

"I think it best for most to receive an allowance, rather than all your money at once. I think an allowance of a hundred and fifty francs a month would be more than enough, would it not?"

"Err- yes," Cosette said, taken aback.

"I have moved back to Paris," Marius said, taking a pocketbook out of his jacket. "Here is my address. If you need any more money, feel free to write and we will fix the sum."

"Right," Cosette said, angry that he did not even look twice at their baby.

"It's your money, I'm just holding it for you. So feel free to write for more. I couldn't care less either way. You needn't be too personal with your requests. It's purely a business arrangement, this."

She stepped back and recoiled as if he'd slapped her.

"Fine then," she said curtly. "Since our business is finished, I think we are done here."

"I suppose we are," he said coldly. "Good day, Mademoiselle."

"Monsieur," she nodded, and he saw himself out.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry for so long without an update! Reviews please?<strong>


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